


Unenforceable Laws

by Violsva



Category: Marvel, Silk (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Noir, Ambiguity, Background Lola/Rafferty, Dancing, Divided Loyalties, F/F, Korean-American Character, Late FemslashEx 2018 Treat, Speakeasies, Uncertainty, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 09:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violsva/pseuds/Violsva
Summary: Cindy is a sister, a reporter (well, okay, a typist), a police informer, and the girlfriend of New York's most glamourous bootlegger. She's totally managing to keep all of that balanced.





	Unenforceable Laws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [summerdayghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerdayghost/gifts).



> I decided not to sign up for FemslashEx this year, but I have a shiny new femslash fandom and I looked at the requests for it anyway and, well, the world always needs more historical AUs. I hope you enjoy!

“Where are you going?” Albert asked.

Cindy’s fingers tightened on her fur stole. “I’m going out with some people from work.” She turned to her brother, her face apologetic. “I think it’ll help get my name known. You could come, if you wanted—”

He rubbed his forehead. “No. No, I’m tired. I’m sorry.”

Albert slept a lot, these days. Cindy hated that it made things easier.

“You rest,” she said.

“How are you going to get back in?”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” said Cindy, smiling, as if getting past their landlady’s curfew was simple and nothing to worry about and definitely didn’t require climbing up the drainpipe and inching along a ledge, avoiding windows all the way.

“I guess you always are,” said Albert, smiling at her, and he didn’t mean to castigate her but it felt like it anyway.

“Get some sleep, don’t wait up for me,” Cindy said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She locked the door to their room behind her, and then crept down the stairs, checking to make sure the hall was clear before she hurried through and ducked out the door. She slipped her heels on on the front step and hurried down the street, in the opposite direction from the Bowery where she was supposed to meet Lola and Rafferty in half an hour.

She went entirely out of their neighbourhood, almost into the nicer area around the city centre. But there weren’t many phone booths around, and the two she saw were occupied, so she went into a corner store and asked the old Jewish shopkeeper if she could use the phone. There was less chance of being overheard here, too, if the shopkeeper didn’t listen in, and he was humming quietly to himself as she dialled.

“NYPD,” said the bored night desk operator.

“Message for Detective Morse,” Cindy said quietly. “Silk says, deals coming in to GG on Wednesday at seven.” She hesitated. “No more news on Cat.”

The operator repeated her message. “That all?”

Cindy felt her fingers clench on the receiver. She thought about Felicia. She thought about the people she saw leaving through the back door at night who she’d never seen in the bar.

She didn’t _actually_ have any evidence, she told herself. She’d wait until she did. “That’s all.”

“Got it.” The operator hung up. Cindy relaxed her grip on the receiver, and put it back on the hook.

“Thank you,” she said to the shopkeeper, putting a nickel on the counter. He grinned at her.

“Your boyfriend is very lucky,” he said, and she blushed and thanked him again and ducked outside.

She could go home now. It’d disappoint her coworkers, but Albert would be relieved, and she needed all the sleep she could get. She wouldn’t even have to worry about curfew yet.

But she turned around, walked a dozen blocks without thinking too hard, and found herself sliding into the Black Cat anyway, adjusting the fur stole Felicia had given her around her shoulders as she came in from the bright chill New York night. And she knew she wasn’t just there for a night with her coworkers or a gin fizz.

The Black Cat was the most celebrated speakeasy in New York, full of socialites, high-rollers, and—it was rumoured—criminals. Miss Hardy, the owner, never confirmed or denied the rumours, just smiled and waved at the band to strike up another tune. The most she’d say on the subject was, “Ain’t we all criminals, these days?”

Cindy glanced around the crowded bar and saw Lola, in waistcoat and trousers, and Rafferty leaning laughing against her shoulder. She couldn’t see Felicia’s distinctive hair, and she tried not to be disappointed.

“Cindy!” said Rafferty, waving as she spotted her, and Cindy grinned and fought through the crowds.

“I can’t believe we’re really here,” Rafferty said once they were in conversational distance. “Do you really know the owner?”

“A little bit,” Cindy said, the chill from outdoors banished from her cheeks by self-consciousness. “What’s your poison?”

She got Lola and Rafferty drinks, and one for herself—a double, because she felt like she needed it. Lola raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t say anything.

“We need to get you a partner,” said Lola, after they’d all almost finished their drinks. Cindy blushed.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“We’re not going off to dance and leaving you here alone,” said Rafferty. “Too bad Simon couldn’t come.”

“Who are you interested in? There could be anyone here.”

“Tony Stark, maybe.” Rafferty glanced around.

“I’m not going to dance with Tony Stark!” Cindy protested.

“Dance with me, then,” said Lola, “and Rafferty will scout the possibilities.” She pulled Cindy up and swung her onto the dance floor just as Cindy remembered another reason why she might not want to dance with just anyone in the Black Cat.

But the music and conversation was too loud here for her to say anything—not that she knew what she’d say—and glancing around she still couldn’t see Felicia anywhere. So maybe it’d be okay. Anyway, if she just said they were work friends then Felicia—probably Felicia would be reasonable.

She was less certain when the song ended and Lola said, “Oh my god, is that who I think it is?”

“Um,” said Cindy, but it was too late to hide.

“Hey, sugar.” An arm slung around her shoulders.

“Miss Hardy.” Cindy tried not to jump, and then tried not to stare too obviously, as she kind of had a habit of doing around Felicia. Felicia was in black silk tonight, with amber beads in her hair.

“Don’t be so formal, honey. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Lola,” Cindy said. “She’s another journalist at work, with her girlfriend, who’s around somewhere.” She stressed _girlfriend_ , and then remembered to add, “Lola, this is Miss Hardy.”

“Charmed,” said Felicia, and Lola bowed over her hand like some kind of Victorian gentleman. “Oh, _definitely_ charmed.”

“This is Rafferty,” Lola added, as Rafferty came over, her eyes huge behind her glasses. “Cindy said she knew you, but she’s been very quiet about it.”

“Cindy’s a darling,” said Felicia, smiling. She squeezed Cindy a little closer to her, then said, “Sonya, get these ladies a round on me. No, no, I insist.”

“Thanks so much,” Lola and Rafferty said.

“Did you want—” Cindy started to ask Felicia quietly, while they were distracted.

“Not now. You have fun with your pals, sugar.” She kissed Cindy’s cheek. It was all for show, of course. The floor of the Black Cat was the most public place in the world, if you were Felicia Hardy. Or her ... something.

Something, definitely, Cindy thought, playing with the end of the fur stole Felicia had given her. Felicia saw it, and smiled. “I’ll be seeing you,” she said, and glided to the other side of the bar.

“Wow,” said Rafferty, staring after her. Lola grabbed her and Cindy by the shoulders and shook them gently.

“You find Cindy a partner?” she asked.

“Oh, right!” said Rafferty.

Cindy danced with a variety of guys and butches that evening, most of whose names she forgot before the songs were over. She drank ... well, not too too much, not enough to affect her dancing. The hour grew later. The other typists kept regular hours, and were ready to go when the bar seemed to be winding down a little.

“You coming?” Lola asked.

“I’ll stay a bit longer,” said Cindy, hoping she wasn’t blushing.

“Sure thing,” said Rafferty, and she and Lola departed. Cindy turned toward the bar, and was almost immediately wrapped in tight strong arms.

“Hey, doll.” Felicia’s breath brushed against her neck.

“Miss Hardy,” Cindy gasped, tilting her head instinctively.

“Told you not to be so uptight, baby. Night’s almost rolled up, we can ditch these mugs and go upstairs.”

“You ain’t even going to buy me a drink first?”

“I got better than this.” Felicia’s hand swung out to indicate the bar, then landed on Cindy’s hip. “And you know it.” Cindy remembered, the taste of whiskey and the feel of Felicia’s skin under her tongue together, the golden pools of it between her breasts, Felicia’s hand in her hair bending her head back down. _Don’t you stain the sheets, honey._

“Yeah,” she said inarticulately.

“Good girl.” Felicia took her hand and tugged her away from the bar.

Cindy knew they were being watched as they went up the back stairs But at the top was privacy, was Felicia’s apartment and no one watching. And up there, Felicia had no reason to act, and she still...

“Got you a treat,” said Felicia when the door was shut. Cindy tried to shift her focus away from sex, because Felicia looked oddly serious. She opened her private liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle.

A bottle with Korean writing on it. Cindy gasped and took a step forward.

“Soju,” said Felicia, shaking the bottle and pulling out a glass. Cindy watched her pour it and then took the offered glass in both hands, staring into it.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I—I don’t remember much Korean.” And she’d been separated from her parents before she'd been old enough for them to give her any alcohol. But she remembered the smell, and holding the cup she remembered the apartment she’d grown up in, her parents’ friends, overheard conversations.

“You say thanks,” said Felicia, closing the bottle.

“Thanks,” said Cindy, and she downed the shot around the lump in her throat.

Felicia took the empty glass from her and pulled her to the couch. “Baby,” she said, pulling Cindy down to sit on her lap, “you need protection.”

“I’m a citizen,” Cindy said automatically. “I was born here.”

But Felicia wasn’t wrong. Cindy didn’t have a birth certificate.

She had protection, though. She had Detective Morse.

Assuming Detective Morse would stand up for her. And didn’t find out that she’d kind of, a little, been sort of lying to her. And of course she couldn’t tell Felicia about her anyway.

“Can you prove it?” Felicia asked gently. Before Cindy could reply she added, “And maybe there’s someone back in Korea you want to talk to? Get letters to?” She nodded at the liquor cabinet. “I’ve got contacts everywhere, sweetheart. And if you need anything, I can get it for you.”

“Oh,” said Cindy, thinking of her _parents_ , deported back to Korea, she could find them, write to them—

“I know you don’t like that Chinatown boarding house,” Felicia said. “You don’t have to stay there, you know.” Her fingers played with the hem of Cindy’s skirt.

“Oh.”

There were reasons she hadn’t already moved in with Felicia, Cindy thought. Reasons like _Albert_ , who didn’t know about any of this, and Felicia didn’t know about him. Reasons like Felicia’s bootlegging, her gang, her connections with the Crime Master. She was a bad guy. Cindy wasn’t. Cindy needed to stay on the right side of the law. More or less.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” said Felicia, kissing along Cindy’s jaw. “But you got no reason not to, baby. Come live with me. Think about it.”

She could still work for Morse, Cindy thought, maybe, if she was careful. Maybe Morse would even like that she was close enough to—to—

Felicia’s lips met hers.


End file.
